One for Luck
by RavensRequiem
Summary: It started as a simple kiss for reassurance on the eve before their trials and because a habit before and after a mission; always a kiss for luck and a kiss for success. Altaϊr/Malik


**One for Luck**

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_Disclaimer: I don't claim possession over any and all characters contained herein. I just decided to have fun with them._

_Notes: I have no idea where this one came from, but I think I just needed a distraction from evolutionary macrobiology, quadratic formulas, creative non-fiction essays, tutoring... Okay, I needed a distraction and this idea wouldn't leave me alone! There's some fluff (more like a lot of fluff), some darker moments, some humor; I was all over the radar with this one. Ultimately, I just made prompts for myself that were meant to time line some critical moments in _Assassin's Creed_ and create a fix my love of __Altaϊr and Malik._

_Warnings: Altaϊr/Malik, light shounen-ai, implied yaoi, game spoilers if you squint REALLY hard.  
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_[From Novice to Master]_

It was such a small sound, insignificant compared to the racket the wildlife was making, but the feather-light shuffle of feet against the ground roused Malik from his light slumber. Instinctively, his hand darted under his pillow as he rose to retrieve the dagger he always kept there, his breath controlled and his ears straining worse than his eyes as he tried to find the source and location of the scuffing. In the moonless darkness, he saw nothing but vague gray outlines and a thin slat of amber torchlight that sluiced through a gap in the door from the hallway. To his right, he heard soft snoring and knew Kadar was safe and then, adjacent to where he sat, there was a soft rustle, a sigh, and the scuff of feet against the stonework before it went silent again. Malik slowly rose into a predatory crouch, dagger held backhanded, and he opened his eyes a little wider to force them to take in more light; after a moment he saw a flash of white-gray in the darkness by the window before it fluttered away.

_Altaϊr_, Malik reasoned once he looked to his left and found the novice's bed unoccupied. He rose with a shamefully loud series of pops from his joints and glanced down to make sure Kadar was still sleeping before he made for the window, keen ears attuned to the scuff of the same footsteps against the outer wall. _Something must be wrong. He only takes to the roof when something's troubling him_. He sighed and left his dagger on a table covered in his and Kadar's texts before he hopped onto the window's ledge with the grace of a cat. He hesitated for a moment, dark eyes wandering down to the ground below and a something that sounded suspiciously like a gulp eminated from his throat. _Don't leave him up there alone! Go, get going._

Malik swung his weight to the right and grabbed for a stone that jutted from the wall, catching his balance before he sought the next set of hand and footholds. It wasn't a very far climb to the roof (thanks to the fact that their shared quarters were ridiclously far from the ground), but by the time Malik's fingers found purchase on the roof, sweat beaded his brow and he was pale. With quick movements and a muttered prayer of thanks, he hauled himself onto the roof's flat surface and immediately heard an amused chuckle.

"I was wondering if you would follow me."

Malik's brow furrowed when he heard the note of tension in Altaϊr's voice and went to sit by the novice that looked like he was sulking with the way he had curled into himself. "How could I not, with you slinking around like a thief in the night?"

"I'm sorry if I woke you," Altaϊr murmured, a hand coming up to ruffle his hair.

Malik shook his head. "I wasn't sleeping all that soundly anyway, so it's no injury to me." He rested his arms over his bent knees and titled his head to regard Altaϊr. He had been right in thinking that something was wrong; broody tension was writing all across the younger novice's face. "What troubles you?"

"Nothing," Altaϊr replied and it sounded weak to his own ears.

"Should I bother to correct you or let you do so yourself…?"

Altaϊr chuckled and a broad shoulder rose and fell gracefully. "I will not suffer your ridicule, so let's assume it's nothing."

Malik smirked and arched a brow. "Who's to say I'd ridicule you after you so kindly skipping chiding me for climbing up here?" He saw the ghost of a smile light across Altaϊr's scarred lips and he laughed. "Exactly my point. Now, what weighs so heavily on your mind that you're taking to the roofs again?"

Altaϊr clearly hesitated, obviously not up for Malik's potential chides, but a sigh and slump of his shoulders indicated that whatever bothered him weighed heavily enough on his mind that he would take his chances. "Tomorrow… I haven't been this anxious since… hell, since I can't remember."

Malik made a small "ah" sound and titled his head to regard the dark horizon and the stars that became increasingly brighter in the passing night. "It's only to Acre, Altaϊr, and I highly doubt you're anxious because we'll be on our own…"

"And you're right," Altaϊr replied with an obvious dodge around the open ended statement.

"Then what has you so worried, hmm?"

Altaϊr knew Malik wouldn't stop prompting him to reply to open questions and huffed out a sullen, "Our mark will be in the port district."

Malik nodded his understanding and did his best to keep a wry smirk off of his face. It was bad enough Altaϊr was nervous; it wouldn't do well to make him irritated too.

Though, when Altaϊr scoffed and swatted Malik, it became apparent that he hadn't done such a good job keeping a straight face. "I see that smile and I would inform you that you're one to talk. An Assassin that's afraid of heights… It's preposterous."

Malik gaped and twisted his torso to glare at Altaϊr properly. "And an Assassin that's afraid of water is any less preposterous?"

"We live in a desert, Malik, how many occasions do we have to swim?"

"…Enough that it's required training."

"Point is we have more occasion to deal in heights."

Malik rolled his eyes and shoved Altaϊr, watching as he swayed like a tree in a stiff wind. "You know why I don't like heights, but that didn't seem to stop me from coming up here after you."

"Yet you could have been mistaken for an infidel Templar with as pale as your face was," Altaϊr returned in jest.

Malik scowled and shot back, "Would you like me to purposely push you in the water tomorrow, high and mighty Son of None?"

"Only if you would enjoying being shoved into a Leap of Faith, O'King of Swords."

The two teenagers glared at each other until lips twitched and they fell into laughter, unable to keep their angry farces for very long. Though, the laughter ended abruptly when Malik seized the front of Altaϊr's robes and yanked him forward to plant a solid kiss on his lips. He lingered long enough to trick the younger novice into deepening the kiss and pulled back with a swipe of his tongue over Altaϊr's bottom lip. "One for luck," he stated.

Altaϊr smiled and pulled Malik into his arms, tucking the novice's head under his chin and wrapping his arms around his torso. He felt the tension drain from his body as Malik settled into him, comforted by his solid presence and the quiet promise to stay by his side.

It was silent then, except for the insects that chirped noisily from the woods, and soon enough, Malik and Altaϊr's gentle snoring joined the summer song.

* * *

_[Sink or Swim]_

"There they are! Get them!"

"Oh shit!" Malik grabbed a handful of Altaϊr's robes and gave him a running start, sprinting after the younger novice as the guards started to filter down the alleyway.

"You don't have to shove," Altaϊr growled over his shoulder.

"Run now, complain later," Malik shot back. He peeled out into the main street after Altaϊr, quickly taking in the surroundings to spot archers on the roof. Again, he grabbed Altaϊr and reigned him into the shadow of the buildings, dodging inward himself before a rain of arrows hit the ground where they had been.

Altaϊr growled loud enough to be heard, but didn't remark on Malik tossing him around. He was irritated that they had been caught and wanted to turn and hack those troublesome guards to ribbons. He almost did so, but Malik corrected his path and shoved him forward again, strong enough to propel him forward but not strong enough to trip him. "It would be faster to kill them!"

Malik ran wide around a throng of curious onlookers and dodged back in to avoid taking an arrow, ears tuned to the heavy clattering of the guards' armor behind them. "I love you, but not so much so that I'll sew you back together. It's faster to kill them and would make the trip home slower because of needless injuries."

_Malik's way of reminding me that I'm reckless,_ Altaϊr grumbled to himself. He hopped over a stack of crates and peeled left to avoid a beggar slumped against a wall, searching for a way to shake their pursuers with his fallback of "stab now, run later" barred by Malik. _At least we assassinated our marks. This would be far more tedious if we'd botched that much._ He ran through the southern gate he and Malik had run through now that long ago and darted for the stairs, hoping to lose the guards in the circular streets that ran through the district.

"Altaϊr!"

Altaϊr spun and skidded, stopping long enough to see Malik stumble, glimmering silver protruding from his shoulder. He swore long and profusely under his breath and darted back to haul the novice to his feet. Red ringed his vision and he wanted, more then ever, to kill the guards; chasing them through the city was fine, but injuring his lover?

Unacceptable.

"Altaϊr, don't you dare," Malik snarled through clenched teeth, recognizing the coil of the other's body. He fisted Altaϊr's robes and darted forward before he could charge the guards, running straight through the district and towards a destination that had Altaϊr suddenly pulling against him. "Come on!"

"Let me go!" Altaϊr snapped, fully aware of where Malik was going. "That is _not_ a viable escape route, Al-Sayf! …Allah damn you, don't you even dare!" He could smell salt more clearly in the air and the gentle lapping of waves against the stone seawall drove spikes of anxiety through his chest. "Malik!"

"I found them!"

Malik put an extra burst of speed into his gait and kept Altaϊr in tow as he headed down the stairs, feet thundering against the wooden pier as he set his mind towards escape. A glance back revealed enough distance between them and the guards and he dared to stop at the end of the peer, turning in plain sight to kiss Altaϊr firmly on the lips. "One for luck," he murmured. He grasped Altaϊr's hand hard and nodded before he gave the younger novice a mighty shove into the water. When Altaϊr fell in with a splash, he looked back to find the guards almost upon him and smirked at them before he coiled and dove into the water. He cut through the surface gracefully, ignoring the sting of sea water against his eyes to find Altaϊr awkwardly swimming ahead of him.

_IhatehimIhatehimIhatehim…_ Altaϊr kept muttering his hate for Malik internally as he fought against the resistance of the water and the memories of nearly drowning, his lungs filling with water as his strength failed him. _I was a boy then. I'm an Assassin now. It's only water._ He went back to silently proclaiming his hate for Malik as he swam without knowing where he was going, his heart hammering in his ears and his lungs starting to burn for air. Before he thought to surface, a slice of white cut in front of him and he almost inhaled a lungful of water when Malik cut him off.

Malik motioned right then up before he took off, his grace in the water almost enviable as he led the way. He knew where the next set of piers was and trusted Altaϊr to follow him.

To Altaϊr, it felt like eternity before Malik surfaced and he followed in quick order, gasping for air the moment he surfaced as well. Angry and shaken, he glared at Malik to find the novice grinning at him around deep swallows of air. He bobbed with a wave, legs kicking to keep him afloat, arms coming into play every so often when he sank a little too low for comfort. "I hate you," he stated aloud.

"I know." Malik paddled over to Altaϊr and pulled his hood back, hand cold against the younger's face as he leaned in. He waited for Altaϊr to smack him and, when nothing happened, and smiled and kissed him again, lingering without teasing. He smiled against hungry lips when Altaϊr's arms wove around his neck and a hand cradled the back of his head. He licked at Altaϊr's bottom lip to slip his tongue into his mouth, moaning appreciatively when the younger novice deepened the kiss, tongues pushing against one another until the need for air forced them apart. "One for success," he murmured. "Now, let's go."

* * *

_[Learn to Soar]_

Up, up, up, up… The climb wasn't so bad, that much Malik would admit. He could keep his eyes ahead and focus on viable handholds and _not_ on how far he was from the ground. It wasn't exceedingly bad when he hauled himself to the top of the look out and he did have to admit that the few of Maysaf and outline countryside was absolutely beautiful. But, that's when he'd stop admitting the pleasant aspects and start kicking himself for climbing to begin with.

He could climb down the tower that ran the rough height of the wood line highest trees and the thought made him shiver, scared stiff of the idea of slipping and falling to the ground. He didn't want to end his life as a lovely red smatter on the grass and examined his next (and last) option: The gangplank that jutted from the lookout and the stack of hay that looked like a little smatter of gold… Malik groaned when the word "smatter" crossed his mind again and he was supplied with predictions of his botched jump and how his mangled corpse would look next to the landing spot.

"It's worse if you look down," Altaϊr chuckled behind Malik, perfectly comfortable with the height and the fact that he could probably brush his finger against the underbellies of circling eagles if he reached out. "It's better not to look before you leap."

"Says you," Malik shot back shakily. He peered over the edge again and recoiled when he saw the same mental image of his broken body sprawled against the grass, bones jutting from skin and under robes. He wrung his hands in an uncanny show of nerves and backed up until he bumped into Altaϊr's solid, unmoving body. He jumped when hands fell on his shoulders and squeezed gently, craning his neck to find Altaϊr smiling at him reassuringly.

"It's call the Leap of Faith for a reason, Malik."

Malik scowled and pointed down. "It's badly named then because this is the errand of a suicidal fool!" He thanked God that the proctors were on the ground, far from sight, because they would have had some words to share about the way Altaϊr's arms snaked around his waist and held him close. _He's subtly enjoying this… Revenge for Acre, I swear._ He yelped when he felt himself being moved forward and he dug his heels into the ground. "Oh, no you don't!" He searched for something to stop him from nearing the edge and finally made use of the fact that they were the only two up there.

Altaϊr stopped and bowed into Malik with a moan of mixed pain and pleasure when his high-strung lover reached back and squeezed his crotch, an effective (if not foul) way to halt his progress.

"I said no," Malik repeated with a maliciously hard squeeze before he let go. The moment he did, he heard a sultry chuckle and found himself being forced forward again. "Altaϊr, I'll tear it off, so help me…" He swallowed hard, paralyzed, when he saw the ground come into view and he felt a little less assured in Altaϊr's embrace. All he could see were the onlookers and the ground and his boy-self sprawled on the ground in writhing agony, mangled arm clutched to his chest.

Altaϊr knew they would be seen soon and let Malik go, blocking his only escape route with his mere presence. With a smile, he leaned forward to kiss Malik and murmur, "One for luck." His smile turned cheeky as he spun Malik around and shoved him, ambling to the very edge of the gangplank to watch.

Malik panicked the moment weightlessness overtook him, screaming _IhatehimIhatehimIhatehim_ internally as he righted his bad balance and extended his arms, plunging headfirst towards the ground and (thankfully) the stack of hay that was growing steadily larger. Then, in a rush, it was over and he huffed when he fell into the deceptively thick pile of hay, the reeds uncomfortable to lay in, but a welcome piece of terra firma.

A moment later, the hay exploded in a forray of golden reeds as Altaϊr landed, rustling around until he found Malik safely hidden in the pile. "See, nothing to it."

"I hate you," Malik growled in an echo of Altaϊr's words at Acre.

In the same form, Altaϊr smugly replied, "I know." He used the cover of the hay to mimic the same passionate kiss Malik had instigated in the water, holding him close until breathlessness forced them apart. "One for success."

Malik couldn't be too angry at Altaϊr for shoving him; it made them even.

But, it also made them realize that they had faced their darkest fears and survived and they shared one more, brief kiss that spoke of their thanks, their fears, and their pride in one another.

* * *

_[If They Knew it Would be the Last Time...]_

"Come on!"

Malik smiled and Altaϊr continued along in silence, horses' hooves gently trotting against the ground in a steady tempo that calmed the natural, pre-assignment nerves.

"I'm going to be _old_ before you two get anywhere!" Kadar groused again, the leader of the three man pack and so very impatient, so very _novice_.

"Remember when we were that impulsive?" Altaϊr inquired wryly as he swung to face Malik.

"You speak as though you've grown out of those days," Malik retorted evenly, guiding his horse in to rise a little closer to Altaϊr, who leered at him petulantly. With a quick glance to make sure Kadar wasn't looking, he placed his hand against Altaϊr's face and leaned in for a quick kiss.

Altaϊr didn't protest, but he was mildly confused. Since that night so many years ago, the day before their trials, it had become a habit –a ceremony really– for them to trade a kiss before and after a mission. If they were together, the kiss for luck and success would come right before they were to commence and if they were apart, the kisses would come before one left and when they were reunited. They were obviously together for the mission and still a while from the start of their assignment.

Granted, "a while" to an overly impulsive Altaϊr was approaching the mark's location, maybe five minutes out at best.

"What was that for?" Altaϊr finally asked, setting his outlook on time and distance to the side.

Malik smiled and shrugged. "One just because," he replied playfully.

"Just because I'm in the lead does _not_ mean that I am completely deaf," Kadar called over his shoulder. He knew his brother was romantically involved with the Eagle of Maysaf and he frankly didn't give a damn if it went against the sanctions of their religion (something none of them put no stock in anyway) or the tenants of their Creed or the laws of the Brotherhood. He liked to see Malik happy and so long as Altaϊr didn't stop pleasing his brother, he would chide and tease them without intent to harm.

"And what have we said that was so offensive to your ears?" Altaϊr shot back.

Kadar turned on his mount to leer at the pair with pursed lips. "You think that because my back is turned you two have license to act like husband and wife behind closed doors? I'm sorry, but you're sadly mistaken."

Malik chuckled and waved his brother's statement away like it was a bad odor. "That is hardly the case, little brother, and it is hardly your place to comment on our affairs."

"It is after you jackals kept me up all night long." Kadar smirked victoriously when Malik went red and Altaϊr coughed and ducked deeper into his cowl. "So, you see, it _is_ my place to comment on your affairs when they not only concern me, but practically _involve_ me."

"We didn't intentionally trip over you," Malik grumbled. "It was dark."

"And I'm sure it was a complete accident that you chose our quarters over Altaϊr's?"

"We should have left him behind," Altaϊr muttered under his breath. "That child is entirely too loose with his opinions… like someone _else_ I know."

Malik shrugged nonchalantly. "The point is, Kadar, that it's none of your business."

Neither Assassin was deaf to the, "It will be if you two rutting like dogs all night affects my performance today" and they tactfully ignored it. Both of them could tell that Kadar was raring to continue his harmless ridicule and Malik interjected with the astute note that they were at their destination before just dismounted.

Altaϊr followed in kind and lashed his horse to a nearby section of crumbled fence, taking the reigns of Malik's horse to do likewise. He smiled when Kadar handed his reigns over and walked away. "Help yourself."

Malik swatted Altaϊr when he came over. "He _is_ my little brother and the last of my family, so try to remember to be nicer to him, otherwise you and your hand shall become better acquainted over a cycle or so."

Kadar made a pleasant little whipping sound as he checked his weapons and gathered what he hadn't wanted to carry.

Altaϊr rolled his eyes and went to respond, but Malik's hand on his face stopped him. He took Malik's free hand and held it tight, savoring the chaste kiss placed on his lips.

When Malik pulled back, they murmured, "One for luck," in time and laughed at the synchronization they never meant to achieve.

"Let's go before you decide that looking for an inn is more conducive then retrieving this Templar treasure."

* * *

_[Punishment for Pride]_

Altaϊr had dealt with silence before, but no pause before was as oppressive or frightening as the quietude he encountered in Malik's quarters. Not to be confused, there was noise; ambient voices that carried on the wind, the cry of raptors overhead, and the shallow, pained wheeze that overshadowed every other sound. But it was _quiet_ and it scared Altaϊr because he could _hear_ noises all around him but he could _feel _none of them. All he felt was a cold void that muffled his senses, made him shuffle through the halls in a numbed daze.

Any sane man would have stayed away from sources of such discomfort and discord, but Altaϊr wasn't sure he was sane anymore. How could he be, with his coveted rank ripped from him, his name smeared into the mud, on the cusp of losing a lover he had so thoroughly wronged; how could he be sane? The demoted Assassin knew he wasn't, simply couldn't be sane after what he'd done because no sane man would take something so damned good and throw it away to indulge in his pride. Just the thought of what had happened made him groan and try to curl away from the barbed insults that hissed from the darkest corners of his mind.

Altaϊr knew he should have tried to pick up the pieces and move on, but guilt held him fast where pride had not that long ago driven him forward recklessly. He refused to leave Malik's side as he fought through delirium, pain, and infection, safe from harm in the Assassin's unconsciousness and open to attack by his sorry state. There was nothing Altaϊr could do except sit there and stand guard, watch as infection ravished Malik's already beaten body, numbly observe the bitter struggle for survival against an entity they could only hope to understand.

The doctors said that Altaϊr shouldn't be so mobile, that he was risking his own life and that his own wounds put him in peril enough without making matters worse. Altaϊr disregarded their words and did what he damned well pleased; he moved from the room long enough to sleep, which was a few sparse hours at best. He would always come back and sit in the same spot and just watch as Malik hovered between life and death. All those hours spent weren't wasted – Altaϊr considered his sins in depth and weighed each one with what he believed to be a befitting punishment.

The last one Altaϊr weighed was his sin against Malik. His pride had cost the man he hawked everything; his brother and his career were gone without hope of returning. Yes, there had been no determination on Malik's position as an Assassin to date, but Altaϊr knew his Master well and knew that his lover (_former_ lover, his mind always supplied) would be shelved, shuffled aside because of his newly bestowed handicap. That alone would devastate Malik if he ever awoke and dealing with Kadar's death… Altaϊr had already seen into the eyes of that beast and he would admit he was afraid of the combined might of both forces.

One night, a tenuous cycle and a half into his vigil, Altaϊr rose to sleep, but he didn't leave as he always did. He had noticed Malik starting to come around; his skin wasn't so pale and he slept more than fought against unconsciousness. The novice knew his _former _lover would awake soon and the thought relieved and terrified him. But, he had already sworn something to himself: His life for Malik's.

Altaϊr had no idea what Malik would do to him, but he resigned and resolved himself to take the abuses as punishment for the sins he had committed. Now that it was certain the Assassin would survive, Altaϊr would torture himself and relive those disastrous moments every time he looked at Malik. He would crawl through mud on bent knee for forgiveness and sever his own arm for penance if it was asked of him and these thoughts soothed his guilt as he leaned down.

Malik was no longer his –his ultimate punishment– and before he let the Assassin go, he kissed him once on the lips and murmured, "One for success" because, in the end, Malik had completed their mission.

* * *

_[Love Lost, Hate Gain'd]_

"Safety and peace, Malik."

"Your presence deprives me of both." Dark eyes didn't even lift from the map that deft fingers traveled across. "Now what do you want?"

Yes, ow; Altaϊr swallowed hard and tried very hard to remember that he swore that any abuse Malik dished out would be taken in stride. Unfortunately, the fact that he was partially delirious with his own wounds when he made that oath made him forget the fact that he _never_ took well to being belittled, which was happening a lot as of late. _This is what you deserve… Take it, accept it, learn to love it,_ he reminded himself as he told Malik the parameters of his mission.

Altaϊr was apparently a damned man because his mouth went right on ahead of the pious streak his failure had created and he swore pain upon himself later when he started flapping his tongue in brash and arrogant tones. It was all to the tune of, "I need no guidance from you, merely a place to start."

Malik stilled in his mapping of the city and slammed his hand down, jaw tense and eyes dancing dangerously. "You presume a bit too much, _novice_, because I will make your life in this city hell if you believe that you can parade in here and demand the easy way through your assignment." His smile was feral, nasty, like he was looking to purposely wound and push Altaϊr's lines simultaneously. He might have been demoted (in his eyes) to rafiq of Jerusalem, but that didn't mean that he hadn't lost his killer edge. "You are a novice and you're going to find your mark just like one."

"Then there was no reason to have come here," Altaϊr snarled and he almost hit himself. _So much for piousness._ He had to figure though, he was doing rather well; not that long ago, he would have pounced Malik to beat him to a pulp for talking to him in such a manner. That he was only barking back was a glimmer of hope, as far as he was concerned.

"Well then, leave," Malik sneered from between clenched teeth, rage an ugly expression on his face.

Altaϊr turned on his heel to do just that, before he was tempted to beat Malik senseless. He had been reserved to harsh insults and maybe light physical abuse, but Malik was certainly going above all expectations and Altaϊr wasn't sure how true he could be to his semi-conscious vows.

"Wait," Malik finally growled. "Altaϊr, just wait a moment." Rage bled into weariness as he called the novice back. He really did want to stab the bastard in the throat, but there was something that was holding him back. That same something had him telling Altaϊr where he would think to look first and who to speak to specifically, as well as a couple of promising names he had heard on the streets. "And that is only because it would do me no good to tell Al Mualim that you went and got yourself killed."

Altaϊr now felt twice as bad for his impetuous outburst and hid in his cowl. "Thank you, _dai_."

"Now go, sleep, pray, eat, curl in a corner and cry…" Malik took a moment to consider the fact that Altaϊr looked like he wanted to do just that, "do whatever it is you do before a mission, just be quiet."

The words were purposeful and honed to killing perfection; Altaϊr winced because they both knew what he would have done before a mission. But, no kiss was traded and no "one for luck" was said and Altaϊr left the Bureau with a sour taste in his mouth.

* * *

_[A Glimmer of Hope]_

Dark days were upon them and Malik cursed the heavens for bringing such storms to his door. Couldn't some other rafiq help plan suicide and rebellion and treason, someone less sure of the Brotherhood than he? As it was, misfortune and the truth had come to his door and he had to deal with what Allah handed him as sanely as possible.

"Malik, you're quiet."

"I can't imagine why," Malik snapped. "You march in here in tatters, beaten by a _woman_ and made a fool of by an infidel, then dare to insinuate me in your madness? Why on earth does Allah see fit to land you in my possession when there's trouble?"

Altaϊr did well to keep his face blank, but nothing could quite mask the pain in his eyes. "I merely asked for your guidance, _dai_, nothing more. Whatever plans come of this news, they will be carried out by my hand and my hand alone."

Malik blew out a strained breath and wiped his hand over his face, running it up to ruffle his hair out of agitated habit. He could see the pain his words caused in Altaϊr's storm-gray eyes and he could have kicked himself for pushing them back yet another step. They had just traded apologies, taken their share of the responsibility, and tried to start anew from the ashes of tragedy. _Typical for my mouth to ruin it all with a few well-thought words._ "What do you expect of me, Altaϊr?"

"Guidance, no more," Altaϊr replied neutrally.

Malik threw his arm up and started pacing, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts that buzzed angrily through his head, making it impossible to concentrate. Former hate told him to let the foolish Eagle run off after the enemy by himself while old love screamed at him for simultaneously stabbing Altaϊr with words and denying him aid in what was undoubtedly a dark hour. Ultimately, Malik reasoned that all he had done in the past months was quietly beg for forgiveness and take abuses of many sorts - _penance_, his mind supplied, _that you threw in his face._

Oh and had Malik taken advantage of Altaϊr steadily weakening ego. At first, he had thought it glorious to finally have the damned bastard under his thumb, but he had come to realize that every time he made the young man flinch, he winced and every time he degraded the man, he felt sick. It wasn't _right_ and no amount of petty vengeance could hide Malik from the fact that his own pride had helped fuck their relationship –and his life– up.

They had apologized and taken their shares of the blame and Malik was amazed that not ten minutes later, he was right back to his post-Solomon's Temple ways again. Altaϊr needed help and had come to him for a direction, a friendly face, someone he could trust and Malik felt a pang of mixed love and grief at that thought. After all he'd done, Altaϊr still _trusted_ him…

Altaϊr saw the struggle written on Malik's face and rounded the desk to stop him, hands on the _dai_'s shoulders to keep him in place. "I can see this troubles you. I will go and we will not speak of this matter again. At the least I came to say what needed to be said."

Malik heard the tenuous, fragile little bridge of trust between them shatter when Altaϊr turned to go and he darted forward to stay the Assassin. "Altaϊr, I'm sorry."

Altaϊr was frozen simply by Malik's words and he twisted, arm still captive, to stare at the man. "Malik?"

Malik was not going to ruin another chance because of his pride and he would be damned before he let his foolish Eagle run after impossible odds alone. "Stay and I will find you the quickest route to Arsuf."

"Malik, I don't-"

"No, I won't hear of it. Sit and recover your strength. By nightfall, I will have you ready to go."

Altaϊr nodded and almost leaned forward out of old habit, but didn't _dare_ push Malik's bounds because he didn't know where they lay anymore. "Thank you, my friend."

A flash of disappointment crossed Malik's expression, but it disappeared and he turned to his texts and maps, surrounding himself in a flurry of parchment and ink and activity. Nightfall was upon them and he knew the proof of his word would be the first step to rebuilding what they had both helped to destroy.

* * *

_[One Betrayal to Soothe Another]_

Altaϊr stumbled into the Jerusalem Bureau, wounded and tired and bloody, gray eyes lifeless as he fell into a startled Malik's embrace.

"Altaϊr, what happened?" Malik demanded, exuding frantic energy as he brought the Assassin to the side room to set him on the plushest of the cushions. "Altaϊr, talk to me!"

"Robert de Sable is dead," Altaϊr rumbled, his voice harsh and tainted by fatigue. He reached into a pouch to pull out a feather painted rust red with dried blood. "The proof, my _dai_."

Malik ran his hand across Altaϊr's bruised face and left his side long enough to retrieved the medical supplies he had learned to keep on hand for Altaϊr's local assignments. The man was still so damned reckless, still the same brash teenager he'd had to shove in the water all those years ago. When he returned, he found Altaϊr gingerly removing his robes, weapons set to the side to allow Malik to work easily and quickly. "Thank you."

"There is worse news," Altaϊr murmured.

Malik heard pain beyond physical injury in Altaϊr's voice and he paused in unraveling bandages he had sterilized earlier for just such an occasion. They were still hot from the boiling water, but he ignored the discomfort to focus on Altaϊr. "And what is that?" His heart broke when Altaϊr looked up at him, a lost and betrayed boy trapped in the weathered body of an Assassin, humanity warring with compartmentalized rationality.

"I have one more mark… One that I do not want."

Malik's blood went to ice when Altaϊr murmured the last name he'd ever thought he'd hear in connection with the word "Templar". He immediately wanted to deny the claim, but couldn't; Altaϊr would never play so cruel a joke or be able to look so grieved. "A-Are you sure? You actually trust the words of the infidel's King?"

Altaϊr nodded. "He could have killed me and instead let me approach, could have imprisoned me and instead let me fairly face de Sable… he could have let me wander around blind and instead shared the truth with me." He grasped Malik's left arm at the bicep and hissed, "His words ring true with those of my other marks." He seemed to realize where his hand was and pulled it back as though he had been burned.

"What will we do?" Malik demanded. "You had your suspicions, but now that they've been made truth… It's… there is nothing we can do."

Altaϊr shook his head and a weak light of strength entered his eyes, brought them to life a little. "When you have tended my wounds, I will ride for Maysaf and end this." He grit his teeth when Malik shook his head with a frown. "He _used_ me, Malik. I trusted him and he betrayed me! He will not live to gloat over his accomplishments." He winced when Malik smoothed a strong smelling salve across the deepest of his wounds. "Both of us, Malik. He turned us against one another, cost us everything, used me and cast you aside when you were proven useless…"

Malik paused in winding the bandages around Altaϊr's chest, his breath stuttering from between pale lips as a horrible reality struck him. "I… I delivered it to him."

"It wasn't your fault," Altaϊr hastened to assure Malik. "Neither of us knew what was going on."

Anger hit Malik hard and fast and he rushed to finish with Altaϊr's wounds, the desire for revenge growing with every beat of his heart. When he was finished, he helped Altaϊr ease back into his robes and fasten his weapons back into place. "We will face him together," he stated as he rose.

Altaϊr followed in kind, his wounds soothed by the exotic balms Malik had treated him with. "No, you will stay here where it is safe."

"Says the one that shoved me from a forward guard post." Malik pulled out his maps and charts, his census reports and insider reports of guard activity between Jerusalem and Maysaf to find the fastest route. "I will gather what men I can to help. This isn't an endeavor just the two of us can pull off."

Altaϊr approached Malik with clear hesitation. "Malik… Hey, listen to me!" He slammed his hand on across the map of Maysaf Malik had taken to and pulled his head up by the chin. "I am _not_ going to win you back, just to lose you to a madman's fantasies. Stay here where it's safe!"

"And I will not see you to your death and stay behind like a simpering wife!" Malik sneered. "Altaϊr, I don't care what you say, you are not doing this alone. We share the blame in this mess so we are going to fix in the same way." His gaze softened a little and he rested his hand against Altaϊr's face like he did when they were novices. "Together or not at all."

Altaϊr nodded and followed his impulse to lean forward. He expected a cold response and felt relief above his grief when Malik responded to his kiss, almost unwilling to pull away as per their old custom before staking their lives on a mission. He let his forehead rest against Malik's, finding strength in his solid presence and fiery determination.

"One for luck," they murmured in time and they both felt the warmth of a flame rekindled after so long spent warring.

* * *

_[Return to Center]_

The battle was one and after the three cycles of turmoil that followed Maysaf's recovery from their greatest betrayal, Altaϊr had gained control of the stronghold as the new Master of Assassins. It had taken a cycle more to gain the peoples' trust (since his track record was nothing if not spotty) and his last resort had been to bring in a second Master, one the people would trust. He would never forget the look on Malik's face when he told the rafiq that his rank was restored and he was to return to Maysaf as the joint Master of Assassins. Certainly, he would never forget the way Malik had said "thank you" and his face still heated up when he thought about the way his reclaimed lover showed his gratitude.

New troubles were on the horizon, problems that threatened to take Altaϊr from Maysaf, but he wasn't as anxious as he thought he would be. Malik was a strong, capable leader that he trusted implicitly to keep Maysaf and the Brotherhood running in his absence.

"You're quiet again…"

Altaϊr looked from the window to find Malik staring at him from the pile of texts and parchments he was frequently surrounded by. "Merely thinking, _dai_." The title had become an affectionate nickname and he loved the way Malik smiled at him when he used it. "How goes your studies of the Master's documents?"

"Poorly," Malik replied sourly with a poisoned glare aimed at his work. "I thought I would be done with this miserable work when I was reinstated."

Altaϊr knew Malik was complaining for the sake of complaining, because the man had _never_ turned down a chance to bury himself in research; the constant scholar. "It is appreciated, Malik. Without your work, we would be blind to the Templar's movements."

Praise was still rare from Altaϊr and Malik ducked his head self-consciously. "I do what I can to help," he murmured as he tucked back into his studies. It was familiar and comforting, so easy to loose himself in that he didn't hear Altaϊr move until strong arms around his neck startled him from his work. He shuttered when he felt warm breath against his ear and sucked in a deep breath when a wamer tongue traced the shell of his ear. "That, however, will not help us, Altaϊr."

Altaϊr smiled against Malik's neck before he nipped at the sensitive skin under his ear, soothing the reddened area with a lave of his tongue. "It will not help 'us' in terms of a community, but it will help '_us_' in terms of you and I."

Malik glanced at his work and felt his desire to finish it wane under the wandering hands that slipped into his robes, his breath shuttering when nimble fingers danced across his chest, pinching his nipples to hardness. "No, remove your hands and let me work… Altaϊr!" He startled when his chair was pushed back from the table and he found Altaϊr in his lap, gray eyes dancing with a mischievous light he hadn't seen in years.

"There are plenty of hours in the day for work," Altaϊr murmured with a suggestive wriggle of his hips, "and just as many hours for relaxation."

"You're insatiable," Malik sighed as he heard the last of his defenses crash down in the back of his mind.

"I know, but I think we deserve a respite after what has transpired these past cycles." Altaϊr slipped Malik's topmost robe off and felt a little trill of victory when Malik's hands came to rest on his hips. "Would that be an affirmative then?"

"How can I say no?" Malik chuckled.

Altaϊr smiled when Malik rested a hand on his face, lust backed by passion as the elder Master leaned forward for the torrid kiss he had been looking for since their overtake of Maysaf.

"One for success," Malik murmured as the last coherent words he would be able to speak for the rest of the night.

When the sun rose on them the next morning, Altaϊr leaned woke Malik up with a kiss to the lips and a smile more breathtaking then the painted skies as he whispered, "One just because" that silently carried the words "I love you" in his tender touches and strong embrace.


End file.
